


In which Princess Leia of the House of Organa is not tortured, because the Sith Lord Darth Vader discovered their familial relationship and fucking flipped

by SmonksTheMuse



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bail and Breha are Stressed to Death, Father-Daughter Relationship, Force Choking, Gen, Prompt Fic, Vader carries his tiny daughter over his shoulder, Vader stole a shuttle from the Death Star to take Leia to Alderaan, it's my headcanon that Leia swears a TON when she gets seriously pissed, things are going to be Discussed, things are going to be Revealed, this is a weird mix of angst and crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2018-10-09 12:22:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10412073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmonksTheMuse/pseuds/SmonksTheMuse
Summary: Multiple prompts on tumblr that became a full-fledged fic. The title pretty much gives you the premise.





	1. In which the Sith Lord Darth Vader nearly makes a very big mistake, but is stopped by the ghost of his wife Padmé Amidala forcefully yanking his masked head out of his ass

**Author's Note:**

> I posted the first chapter out of order, so it is now chapter five; this means that some of the comments on the new chapter one are really for chapter five. It's confusing, I know, but it's better than deleting the whole fic and starting over.

 

Darth Vader did not quite _enjoy_ conducting interrogations, per se, but he was far from squeamish about it; he had done much more gruesome work on the battlefield, after all.

This particular interrogation would be a clean and simple matter, anyhow. He wouldn’t even be physically harming the Princess; the IT-O torture droid, which hovered behind him as he stalked through the halls of the cell block, would only be used for administering drugs. Trained Rebel or not, Organa was barely more than a child; he would be surprised if she lasted more than a few minutes against his mind probe.

He came to the Princess’s cell, entering with slow, purposeful strides. “And now, your Highness,” he rumbled, “we will discuss the location of your hidden Rebel base.” He walked toward her as he spoke, watching her eyes dart to the I-TO as it floated in.

He motioned the torture droid forward, observing as one of its many arms extended, tipped with a needle that shone sharply in the artificial light. Seeing the Princess move to duck away from the outstretched appendage, he raised his own metal limb and held her down easily with the Force, applying a hint of pressure on her throat. Her breathing sped up noticeably as the needle drew closer, aimed at her shoulder, now leaking a droplet of clear liquid –

_ANAKIN, NO._

Vader froze.

 _THAT IS YOUR DAUGHTER, ANAKIN;_ OUR _DAUGHTER._

He released his hold on Leia Organa, and she eyed him with uncertainty and fear, flinching back when the hovering IT-O began to crumple in on itself, metal twisting and screaming as Darth Vader heard the voice of his wife for the first time in nineteen years.


	2. in which Princess Leia of the House of Organa was prepared for some things, but definitely not for this, and while in some ways it is preferable to what she was expecting, she is still far from pleased

Leia was a trained Rebel; she had been taught what to expect from Imperial interrogation, and she knew several different techniques that would aid her in resisting torture of all types. She _hadn’t_ been prepared for the possibility of Darth Vader being her personal interrogator.

Vader was a monster, that much anyone knew; but his methods of extracting information, while widely rumored and deeply feared, were mysterious. People whispered that he could tear apart the minds of Rebels with glance, and read the spilled contents like an open datafile. They said that he could summon insanity to plague a prisoner until they screamed to the Dark Lord every sin they had ever committed, every secret they held inside them.

Tales were told, in hushed tones and dark corners, about Vader igniting his blade of red and cutting traitors open from neck to naval. He would do it slowly, listening to his victim cry out in agony; he would revel in it. Then he would reach down, between the layers of ripped, charred flesh, and grab hold of the Rebel’s heart.

They said as soon as he touched it, he would know everything. And then he would leave, having gotten what he wanted: information, and a dead Rebel.

Leia didn’t believe that last one for a second; it was clearly just a story made up to frighten the gullible. Still, she knew that Vader had mental powers none but he understood, and that the Empire was more than willing to pump prisoners full of truth drugs and hallucinogens. So while she waited for Vader to arrive, she did what she could to mentally prepare.

Breathing slowly and deeply, she imagined an impenetrable shield surrounding her mind, defending it from Vader’s attacks. She thought of her mother and father, and pictured them holding up the shield beside her; for a moment, she swore she almost sense them.

Then he entered her cell, with a torture droid not far behind. He informed her that they would “discuss the location of her hidden Rebel base”, and when the I-TO came near with its needle he held her down with a raise of his hand. Her heart pounded in her chest, as if it believed the gory legend and was trying desperately to escape.

But then it all stopped. Vader seemed to freeze, though he hadn’t been moving at all, and suddenly the hovering droid was being crushed by an invisible force. The crumpling metal made a horrible screech, and it fell to the floor with a loud clang, followed by silence as Leia stared at it, and Vader, with wide eyes.

Then without warning she was grabbed up and thrown over Vader’s armored shoulder, and once she was there he turned and charged out of the cell at full speed.

She hung there for a moment, too stunned to even move or speak. But after a second of white noise in her head, she regained her wits and shouted a truly vulgar curse, fighting vigorously to escape this new and humiliating position.

 “LET GO OF ME THIS _INSTANT!_ PUT ME DOWN!” She squirmed and kicked with wild rage, beating her fists against his back uselessly. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU _DOING?!_ ”

He tightened his grip around her and ran faster, and that was all the answer she got.


	3. in which three unfortunately-named stormtroopers witness a rather odd thing, and wisely mind their own business

FU-6969 had seen more than a few strange things in his career as a stormtrooper, but this one took the cake. It even took the cake _next_ to the cake. It took the whole cake _shop._

Darth Vader barreled through the halls of the Death Star, faster than FU-6969 would have thought possible with all that armor. The Rebel Princess Organa of Alderaan hung over his shoulder like a sack of Corellian potatoes, bouncing slightly with each heavy step and swearing profusely.

He and the other two troopers beside him watched as Vader zoomed past; valuing their continued existence, none of them dared interfere or even speak. As their combined racket – the Princess’s coarsely-worded demands to be set down, and Vader’s thundering bootsteps – faded down the hall, the three of them stood for a long moment in bewildered silence before BS-0420 spoke up.

“Uh…what?”

It wasn’t the most intelligent sentiment, FU-6969 thought wryly, but it was certainly a shared one.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Lord Vader will do what he wants; best thing to do is stay out of it.”

BS-0420 glanced back in the direction Vader had run and shifted his feet, adjusting and re-adjusting his grip on his blaster; it seemed to be a nervous habit of his. “We shouldn’t…?”

“No,” BJ-6660 answered firmly, startling the both of them. He was the oldest of them, a veteran, and he was always so quiet that it was easy to forget he was there. That, along with his prudence and good sense, had more than likely contributed to his… unusual longevity. FU-6969 had heard rumors that he was a clone trooper left over from the war, and he wouldn’t be surprised to find it was true.

Either way, they took his advice, and went back to standing silently at their shared post. But behind the safe cover of the stormtrooper mask, FU-6969 couldn’t help but snicker at he recalled the image of the tiny Princess punching the back of Vader’s helmet.


	4. in which Darth Vader sprints down the halls of the Death Star with a very angry Princess Leia over his shoulder, and on his way to steal a shuttle from the hangar a great many thoughts go through his head

His daughter.

He had a  _daughter._

He had almost  _tortured_  his  _daughter._

Princess Leia hadn’t stopped shouting, cursing, and kicking since he had first gathered her up onto his shoulder (gently, carefully, she was his  _daughter_ ) and run out of the cell. He paid no heed, of course, to her demands to be put back on her feet, and did his best to ignore the blows to the back of his head.

She didn’t know; he could feel her lack of understanding through the Force. Their parent-child bond, which had awakened on his end with the realization of their familial relationship, still lay dormant on her side. He reached out, trying to connect their minds, but of course it was impossible; if she didn’t know, then the bond couldn’t be fully open. For now, it was only one-sided.

She didn’t understand, but she would soon. As soon as they were safe, he would explain everything.

He would tell her that he had been nearly killed by his traitorous Jedi master on the very day she was born. He would tell her that he had thought her dead, had never known she was alive on Alderaan all this time, because had he known he would have come for her, of course he would have. He would tell her about Padmé, she looked so much like her –

_Padmé._

His step nearly faltered as a wild, desperate hope filled him. If their daughter was alive, then that meant Padmé had survived his anger on Mustafar; could she be alive too? Was she also on Alderaan, waiting for him to find her and their child, waiting all these years for him to come back to her? He reached into the Force, seeking confirmation, practically begging for it to be true –

It wasn’t. She was dead, and he was foolish for imagining otherwise.

He had been told of Padmé’s death mere seconds after rising from the operating table. He had looked frantically to the Force, just as he had now, when Palpatine had said those words –  _it seems, in your anger, you killed her_ – and had felt the truth then as well; had felt her absence from the Galaxy as keenly as he felt the absence of his freshly-severed limbs. He had watched her funeral on the Naboo holonews, too, seen her body lying in the casket with his own eyes.

But… her body had still looked pregnant, then, swollen with the child he thought had died with her. But she  _hadn’t_  died, Leia was here, alive and very much kicking over his shoulder. Which meant –

His master had lied; he hadn’t killed Padmé in his anger. And the Organas – the  _Organas,_  the traitorous Senator and Queen – had stolen his baby and made Padmé’s body appear as if she had died in the womb.

_He would kill them._

Rage and hate filled every inch of his being like a howling storm, and the Dark Side rushed to meet it, beckoning with sweet, familiar power.

_No. Not yet._

He’d let himself become lost in his own dark fury on Mustafar, and he had strangled Padmé. He would not allow history to repeat itself; he would not lose control around Leia.

He pushed away the Dark and promised himself  _soon._

 _Soon_  he would rain devastation down upon the ones who had taken his child.  _Soon_  he would unleash the wrath of a Sith Lord – of a  _father_  – and make the guilty pay for their crimes in blood and pain and unmerciful death. _Soon_  –

His thoughts were interrupted by a particularly vicious elbow to the back of his neck, which sent a rather painful current of shock down his spine. It was accompanied by a choice selection of Huttese swears, shouted in a voice so loud and powerful that Vader half-expected the walls to start shaking around them.

He had to admit, he was somewhat impressed. He had lost track by now of how many different languages Leia had sampled in the last few minutes; she seemed convinced that somewhere in the many tongues of the Galaxy there was a vulgar word or phrase that would halt him in his tracks and force him to let her down.

Well, he thought, a touch amused despite the urgency of the situation, she could keep swearing that blue streak until she was blue in the face; he would set her back on her feet when the time was right to do so, and not a second before.

Which, as he was rapidly approaching the Death Star’s large and unprotected (from him) hangar, would actually be quite soon.

Stormtroopers and officers scattered as he raced through, not slowing down by a second. He quickly scanned the facility for something that would suit their needs; not that one, not that one, certainly not a TIE fighter… was there nothing on this damn station that would –

There!A shuttle; small and fast and in pristine condition. Perfect.

He stretched out an arm and opened the shuttle with the Force, screeching to a stop in front of the first seat inside and quickly – carefully – shrugging Leia off of his shoulder. He caught the look of mixed outrage and dizziness on her face as he straightened up, and before she could get her bearings he pushed her gently down into the seat and strapped her in tightly. He broke the safety strap’s locking mechanism in a way that would keep her from escaping, and without a word – they weren’t safe yet, and truthfully he didn’t even know what he was going to say when they were – made his way to the cockpit and started the shuttle up, tearing out of the hangar before some petty officer could gather enough of their wits about them to throw a wrench in their getaway. Back in the passenger area, Leia had started up again, outdoing her previous performance over his shoulder by a mile; her protests increased in both volume and vulgarity, a feat he almost wouldn’t have thought possible. But she was, after, his and Padmé’s daughter; he supposed the impossible was to be expected.

As he prepared to make the jump to hyperspace, his hands paused over the navigation system and he suddenly realized that he didn’t have the slightest idea where they were going to go.  _Fool,_  he mentally berated himself, casting about for some safe, nearby planet he could take her to.

Alderaan. Of course, she was the Princess of Alderaan. She would be safer there than on any other planet in the Galaxy;  _that’s_  where they would go.

And on Alderaan, he thought darkly, punching in the coordinates, he was likely to find a certain Senator and Queen. He gripped the controls tightly as they entered hyperspace, the stars stretching into blue-white streaks of light.

He was  _very_  eager to speak with them.


	5. In which Princess Leia is getting really sick of this madness, and the Aldera Royal Palace is quite possibly the last place she wants Darth Vader to ever step foot

Leia Organa wasabsolutely, entirely, ten-thousand-percent _done;_  after arriving at Alderaan (in a truly impossible amount of time, he must have done something to the shuttle, altered it in some way), Vader had made for the Aldera Royal Palace and set them down on the landing pad, no doubt ignoring multiple demands that he identify himself, state his purpose, and await clearance. The second they had touched down he had stormed back into the passenger area, ripped the safety strap he had locked around her  _out of the wall,_  hoisted her back up onto his shoulder  _again,_  and charged out of the shuttle before it’s doors had even finished opening.

A small group of people was gathered outside the shuttle, likely preparing to come aboard and find out what the hell was going on. They scattered, ducked, and dived away from them - from  _him_  - as Vader barreled down the ramp with Leia in tow, running faster than she would have thought possible; it was as if both she and his armor weighed nothing. She didn’t stop to admire this feat, though, choosing instead to buck like a crazedbolraida and scream every foul word she knew, interspersed with cries for help to the people they were passing.

“HELP ME, STOP HIM! I AM PRINCESS LEIA OF THE HOUSE OF ORGANA, CALL THE ROYAL GUARD! SOMEBODY GET HELP!”

She twisted as best she could and reached an arm around to punch him in the face - well, mask. It was a bad angle, but she got him twice, eliciting an annoyed grunt that was the first sound he'd made since this madness had begun. She went for a third, but her wrist was caught by his free hand, and despite her attempts to yank it out of his grasp, was soon transferred to and trapped beneath his other hand, which was attached to the arm around the backs of her knees that kept her in place.

In doing this, he had shifted her until she was left hanging across both of his shoulders instead of just one, her legs now off to the side; kicking would do her no good now, not that it had done much before. She recognized this new position as a fireman’s carry, and she raged against it just as much as she had the previous hold.

But her efforts were in vain, and soon they were running down the Palace halls at top speed, and Vader, without slowing down, finally spoke.

“Where are theOrganas?” he demanded.

She answered with a long string of the filthiest, most profane language she had in her possession.

_ “Leia!” _

Her heart froze and Vader skidded to a halt, both of them turning toward the sound of the astonished exclamation. Leia felt herself go pale.

She caught sight of her father’s face just in time to see his expression shift from appalled at her words and shocked at her presence back on Alderaan to stunned and fearful as he realized the sight before him.

“Leia...?” This time it was barely above a whisper.

The sound of Vader’s lightsaber igniting was far louder.


	6. In which things nearly escalate multiple times, because Everybody Loves Leia, but don't, because Everybody Loves Leia

Vader gripped his saber tightly. “ _Organa,_ ” he hissed. The traitor, the _thief._ He would _die_ –

“Father!” Leia raised herself up as much as she could over his shoulder. “Father, run! I don’t know what he’s doing!”

_Father._

Vader’s blood roared in his ears, rage and hatred burning in him as it had not for many years. He grit his teeth and pulled his lips back in an animal snarl that the man couldn’t even see.

She called him _father._ Organa had raised _his_ child to call _him_ father.

He raised his lightsaber to point straight at the man’s face, and the malicious swirl of the Dark Side, which he had reigned in for Leia’s sake, wrapped around him almost gleefully. _Do it now, kill him, don’t let him live another second –_

“Don’t you dare touch him!” Leia shouted. “If you hurt him, I’ll kill you, I swear!”

The cry got his attention, and he paused in the steps toward Organa he hadn’t realized he’d been taking. He fought to focus through the haze of the Dark Side; he had sworn to himself he wouldn’t lose control around Leia, and he _wouldn’t._ Not even to dispose of this kidnapping, lying scum.

“Lord Vader,” Organa said slowly, “please, let us… discuss whatever this is.”

Using every ounce of hard-won discipline in his possession, Vader lowered his saber and extinguished it. But for the sake of pettiness, if nothing else, he put a hint of pressure on Organa’s throat for just a moment; just long enough to see the man’s eyes widen in fear.

“Very well,” he growled. “Call your wife, and take us somewhere private so we may… _discuss._ ”

Organa nodded shakily, and reached for his comlink.

At that moment, the Force rang out a warning, and the hall flooded with uniformed guards; it seemed Leia’s earlier call for them had been answered. Vader re-ignited his blade and dropped into a defensive stance, angling his body so that Leia was as well-protected as possible.

“Lord Vader!” One of them, clearly a leader of some sort, shouted. “Alderaan is a peaceful planet and loyal to the Empire! Please, release Princess Organa and lower your weapon! We do not wish to engage you!”

Organa tried to placate them. “No, we’ve reached an agreement –”

“ _Listen well,_ ” Vader boomed. Many of the guards flinched and half-raised their blasters. “I will bring no harm to the Princess; the same is not true for you. Should anyone attack, or attempt to take the Princess from me, I will not hesitate to destroy them.”

“We are in no immediate danger,” Organa told them quickly. “Lord Vader, I, and the Queen are going to speak privately. Put your blasters away and stand down.”

Reluctantly, but obediently, the guards did as they were told. When every weapon was holstered, Vader once again switched off his lightsaber and clipped it to his belt.

He turned back to Organa. “Take us to where you wish to speak,” he commanded.

“There is no ‘us’!” Leia growled over his shoulder. Organa’s eyes darted to her.

“Lord Vader,” he said carefully, “if you would please put Leia down, we could –”

“ _No._ ” Vader cut him off harshly, leaving no room for argument with his tone. “She will remain where she is until you have taken us somewhere private, without your many guards.”

Leia snarled. “I’ve had enough of this! I can walk by myself, let go of me!”

“Leia, it’s alright,” Organa soothed. Vader glared at him from behind the mask; this man had no right to speak so _gently,_ so _caringly_ to the child he had stolen! The child he had _lied_ to, had taught to call him father!

“It’s just a little longer,” he continued. “We’ll get your mother, and then we can sort this whole thing out. Everything will be fine.”

_Mother?!_

No! Padmé was her mother! Not Queen Breha! _Padmé!_

It was _Padmé_ who had carried her for nine months, it was _Padmé_ who had birthed her, it was _Padmé_ who should have raised her and loved her with him at her side! Not this pair of lying, traitorous, kidnapping criminals!

“Call the Queen,” he bit out, “and lead us to where we may confer. _Now._ ”

Organa motioned forward a guard – the leader, the one who had spoken earlier – and murmured for him to take his company to the drawing room in the east wing. Then, as the guards marched off, he switched on his comlink and made the call.

The Queen answered immediately. “Bail! I was just about to comm you, the guards are saying –”

“They’re right, Breha,” Organa interrupted softly. “Lord Vader is here, and Leia is with him. He wishes to speak with us. Privately.”

There was a moment of silence before the Queen responded. “I see,” she said. “Where will we be… meeting?”

“The east wing drawing room; a platoon will be standing sentry outside in the hall. We’ll be there in five minutes.”

“I’ll be there in three,” the Queen answered. Her voice was strong and unwavering, but still Vader could sense a current of fear. “Keep the both of you safe, my love.”

“I will, my love,” he promised, and ended the call.

He looked back at them, eyes lingering worriedly on what he could see of Leia. Then he took a breath, bowed his head slightly in deference and said, “Shall we, then?”

Vader replied, mocking Organa’s politeness with a tone of insincere civility. “Lead the way, Senator.”


	7. In which this hallway is far too long for Leia's taste, and Darth Vader is not exactly winning 'Father of the Year' just yet

It was, without a doubt, the tensest walk down a hallway Leia had ever experienced; and that included the time she was fourteen and tried to slip out of the palace for a midnight party with her older friends.

That had been more of a scurry down a hallway than a walk, and had ended with two weeks’ grounding and her writing multiple sets of lines on a flimsiplast. To this day her hand ached if she recalled the longest sentence: _‘I will not sneak out of my room in the middle of the night to attend parties with the older children.’_

She had always despised that particular punishment.

But this was much more serious than few broken rules and written lines; this was a situation of dangerous unknowns, and could very easily become deadly for her or her parents.

Darth Vader, after taking her prisoner for the crime of rebellion, had brought her to the Empire’s newly-constructed superweapon: the Death Star. After she had been left to stew in a cell for a short period, and he had come to her with the intention of forcing her to reveal the location of the Rebel Base. He’d had an IT-O torture droid and everything.

But he’d stopped. For no apparent reason, Vader had made a complete 180-degree turn; he’d used his strange powers to destroy the droid before it could inject her with drugs, then lifted her onto his shoulder and run from the cell to the hangar. He had taken a shuttle and flown them to Alderaan, where he almost attacked both her father and a platoon of the royal guard within less than ten minutes of arriving.

Now he, her father, and Leia herself were walking stiffly and silently to the little-used drawing room in the east wing, so they could meet with her mother and somehow work this madness out.

At least, Vader and her father were walking stiffly and silently. Leia, on the other hand, was still stuck over Vader’s shoulder.

It was outrageous. Embarrassing. Humiliating. _Demeaning._

And now that he and her father had reached a tentative, temporary peace, she could no longer even curse or thrash about to express her displeasure; she was forced to lay limp and docile and meekly await Vader’s convenience to be set back on her own two feet.

Well, fuck that.

Just because she couldn’t fight her situation, didn’t mean she couldn’t make a nuisance of herself; she had learned that a _long_ time ago.

She began to squirm in earnest, shifting this way and that and back again. She was careful not to jerk around too aggressively, lest he think she was trying to escape and tighten his grip on her. But she knocked his helmet forward a few times and dug her elbow into his neck with relish.

She could feel her father’s worried gaze on her, though she couldn’t see it. No doubt, he wanted her to stop pressing both their luck and lie still; it was good advice, too, for it was never wise nor safe to irritate the Emperor’s Right Hand.

But Leia had been slung over Darth Vader’s shoulder for far too long to be taking any good advice. Her stomach and hip hurt from the armor digging into them, blood was rushing to her head from hanging down, she had to awkwardly raise herself up to see anything but the floor, and she _still_ didn’t even know _why_ Vader was doing this!

If she wanted to make his walk to the drawing room a little difficult, then she damn well would.

After about a minute, Vader apparently realized she planned on keeping this up. “Stop fidgeting,” he reprimanded.

For a brief second, Leia did stop. Her face heated at the indignity of being spoken to like that – like a _child!_ She immediately began to ‘fidget’ again, with renewed vigor.

“Your armor is hurting me,” she snapped.

“We will be arriving at our destination shortly, if Organa’s estimation of five minutes was correct. When we are there, I will put you down.”

Angered beyond the thought of self-preservation, she twisted roughly in his grip and snarled, “You never should have _picked me up_ in the first –!”

She gasped as Vader rolled his shoulders and she slid a few inches further down. Her repositioning had put her close to the edge, and now she went stiff, locking up her core muscles and trying desperately not to fall off Vader’s back and face-first onto the floor.

“Leia!” her father cried, and rushed closer, his arms out to catch her should she fall.

Vader, though, had just as secure a hold on her as ever, and easily kept her from tumbling to the ground despite the more precarious position. When her father stepped forward to help her, he held out his free hand and pushed him back with some invisible force, never pausing in his own stride.

“Do not be overly familiar, Organa,” he said quietly, a hint of a growl in the mechanical baritone.

He continued on for another few steps, before abruptly stopping and spinning to face her father, who was still a pace or so behind from what Leia could gather.

“This is the room you intended?”

Leia suddenly realized that the corridor was lined with royal guards; she hadn’t noticed them at all, they stood so silent in their sentry.

“Yes, Lord Vader,” her father confirmed. “This is the drawing room. The Queen should be waiting for us.” He palmed open the door and stepped aside to let Vader in first, Leia, of course, unwillingly in tow.

The second they entered, she heard a sharp intake of breath and the voice of her mother.

“Leia!”


	8. In which Bail and Breha are stressed to death, Vader does what he promised and nothing more, Leia is pissed and give zero fucks, and oh, look, a Reveal

Bail slipped past Vader quickly, hurrying to stand beside his wife. She looked at him worriedly, silently asking, _are you alright?_

He gave a small nod, brushing his hand against her arm lightly; it was all the reassurance he could give for now.

They both knew what this was. They had prepared for this possibility, had always known this day might come, but still they had prayed that it would never come to pass.

But it had. Somehow, Vader had discovered the relationship that existed between him and Leia, and he was here now with her, already so possessive and controlling that he wouldn’t even allow her to walk.

Bail was scared, and he knew that Breha was too; they feared for Leia far more than they feared for themselves, even though she had a higher chance of surviving Vader than they did, at least for now. They hardly dared to think of what would happen to their beloved daughter if she was taken away, forced to open herself to the Dark Side that had turned a good man named Anakin Skywalker into a durasteel monster of death and destruction.

They refused to imagine their strong, compassionate, intelligent and proud child kneeling before the Emperor.

Turning back to Vader, he straightened his shoulders and met the unreadable eyes of the mask. He gestured to Leia, who still dangled from his shoulder.

“Now, Lord Vader,” he said, politely but firmly, “if you would please set Leia down, we may begin our… discussions.”

Vader looked down at him, making no move to do so. The silence stretched uncomfortably, the tension of the room becoming almost palpable. Bail opened his mouth to make the request again, a bit more forcefully, but Leia beat him to it.

“Let me go, now! You said you would put me down when we got here, and we’re here now! So do it, dammit!” She punctuated her demand by bucking violently.

Breha stiffened in fear beside him, and Bail himself felt his stomach flip sickeningly. He opened his mouth again – to say what, he didn’t know – but this time it was Vader who interrupted.

“I am aware of what I said, Princess,” he answered, “and I do not make a habit of lying.” And with that he knelt down slowly and slid Leia off of his shoulder.

He was oddly… gentle.

From the split second that Leia swayed on her feet, it seemed to Bail that she had been off the ground for an unfortunate length of time. He wished more than anything to go to her, hold her close and make sure she was alright.

Leia clearly desired the same, for as soon as she had her wits about her – which didn’t take long, it never did, not with his Leia – she whirled around and practically ran towards them.

She didn’t make it two steps before Vader reached out and clamped a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back firmly.

“What the – let go!” Leia jerked and twisted, fighting Vader’s hold. Bail stepped forward, anger and fear rising in equal measure.

“You gave your word you would release her, Vader,” he said sharply. “Will you make a habit of lying now?”

Leia hissed in pain and stopped struggling; Vader had tightened his grip, so much that it was hurting her.

“I said only that I would set her back on the ground, Senator,” Vader growled. “I promised nothing in the way of handing her over to _you._ ” He spat the word ‘you’ with distaste, as if the mere mention of Bail and Breha was repugnant.

“’Hand me over?’” Leia said incredulously. “They’re my _parents!_ ”

The room’s temperature dropped several degrees.

“ _No,_ ” Vader snarled. “ _They are not._ ”

Dead silence. No one moved. No one even breathed, save Vader; his mechanical rasp remained as harsh and steady as it ever was.

“…What?” Leia finally whispered. She looked up at Vader, shock and confusion written plainly across her face.

Vader brought his free hand up to grasp her other shoulder, and slowly but insistently turned her around to face him. She didn’t fight, clearly stunned by his statement. Bail’s heart pounded in his chest. Breha’s hand found his and squeezed tightly.

“These people are _not_ your parents, Leia,” Vader told her. Each word fell like a hammer. “You were  _stolen._ ”

Leia slapped him.

Across the mask.

_Hard._

He and Breha both gasped, hearts leaping into their throats. Vader was so surprised by the blow that Leia pulled free of his grip easily. She spun back to them and ran, and this time she made it. “I was _adopted!_ ” she yelled, coming to stand in the space Bail and Breha quickly made for her between them. “I wasn’t _stolen,_ you bastard! How dare you! What the hell are you trying to do?”

Vader clenched his fists; Bail heard the leather gloves creak, and he and Breha stepped forward to stand in front of Leia.

“What I am trying to do,” he said tightly, almost… pained? “Is tell you the truth that has been kept from you all your life.”

 “What you’ve done is gone completely insane!” Leia retorted, and Bail felt himself go even paler than he already was, a feat he wouldn’t have thought possible. Surely, not even their familial relationship would save Leia. Not after all she’d done. That little remark, as well as every other insult and foul word she had thrown at Vader, would not go unpunished. And _slapping_ him!

Vader crushed Rebels beneath his boot without mercy. Vader strangled Imperial officers on a whim. Vader would not stand for such defiance and disrespect, even – and perhaps especially – from his daughter.

“What ‘truth’ could you possibly tell me that justifies your actions?” Leia demanded.

Bail was no Force-sensitive, but even so, in that instant he swore he felt something shift. As soon as the words left Leia’s mouth, it was as if he could sense the Galaxy change course, fate or destiny or something of the like turning and bending itself for this moment.

This moment that he and Breha had prayed would never happen.

“The truth that _I_ am your father.”


	9. In which the Queen speaks, Vader is Spoken To, things really do escalate this time, and four becomes three

Breha Organa, Queen of Alderaan, had been called many things. Focused and determined, some said. Canny and wise, said others. Intuitive, regal, graceful and kind were also common descriptors. The most popular word by far, though, was sharp.

Breha had heard that word, ‘sharp’, used in many ways in regard to herself. Sometimes it was her intellect people referred to, or her wit. Sometimes it was her demeanor, her voice, her expression or her eyes. The word had even been used to describe her wardrobe.

‘Sharp’ was how Breha felt right now. As she heard  Vader’s words rumble from his armored chest, as she watched shock fill her daughter’s face, as she and Bail lived through their worst nightmare, Breha felt sharp. It was a mixture of panic and rage.

“The truth that  _ I _ am your father,” Vader said.

“ _ The hell you are, _ ” Breha hissed.

All three of them turned to look at her. She had been silent until now, but no longer. Breha was terrified for her life, and for the lives of her husband and daughter, but almost moreso she was angry. She was furious beyond belief at the hulking machine of a man standing before them. He  _ dared _ call himself Leia’s father? He had  _ no right. _

Breha wasn’t going to let this go on the way Vader wanted. She wasn’t going to stand back and let him speak of how Leia had been ‘stolen’ from him, how  _ he _ was her parent and how Bail and Breha, the people who had loved and raised her, were not. How he had been wronged and betrayed, how Bail and Breha would pay for their crimes, how Leia would come away and serve the Emperor alongside him.

He would not say those words. Breha wouldn’t allow him. No,  _ she _ was going to speak now. She was going to let Darth Vader know  _ exactly _ what she thought of all this, and of him, and of a number of other things that she had silently steamed over for the last nineteen years. She didn’t care about his powers or his bloodlust. He had come here, and he was going to listen.

“Breha…?” Bail looked at her nervously. He was probably even more worried now, Breha thought. Her husband was oftentimes more cautious than she, and that could be both a good and bad thing. He had likely still hoped they could find a way to convince Vader he had made a mistake, or at least stall him with diplomacy and discussion long enough to think of a plan. But that sort of strategy would be no use here. Even if Vader was open to finding a solution that didn’t involve their deaths, Breha had already begun, and she always finished what she began.

“What exactly,” Vader growled, stepping forward, “do you mean by that, Queen?”

“I mean that you are not her father in any way that matters, and I won’t stand for you claiming otherwise!” Breha stepped forward as well, even though she had to crane her neck up even further to look at him. “You have done  _ nothing _ to earn the right to be called her father, quite the opposite, in fact! After everything you’ve done, you don’t deserve to  _ look _ at her!”

Vader snarled. “I -”

Breha cut him off. “No! _We!_ _We_ are her parents! Bail and I, not you!”

Her fists were clenched now, her jaw tight, heart pumping faster. “ _ We _ raised her.  _ We _ loved her.  _ We _ took care of her and kept her safe.  _ You _ were off killing in the name of the Empire.  _ You _ were securing the rule of a dictator who has brought nothing but death and destruction to the Galaxy.  _ You _ were choking the life out of planets, systems, and people without remorse.” Breha took another step forward, looked him dead in the eyes of the mask, and said her next words quietly and deliberately.

“Just like you did to Padmé.”

Vader snapped his hand up and suddenly the air was gone from Breha’s lungs. The pressure around her neck was excruciating, unbearable, so tight she couldn’t even exhale, much less inhale like she so desperately needed to. Her vision went spotty, patches of dark wavering in front of her eyes. She couldn’t feel anything but the pain in her throat and lungs, but she heard Bail and Leia shouting. It was distant and dull though, like the panicked heartbeat pounding in her ears. The blackness was taking over, and she was falling into it, down and away…

_ -eha? Breha? Breha, please- _

_ Mother! Mother, can you hear me? Wake up! Mama- _

People were talking… Bail and Leia?

_ -wear on my life I will kill you for this! I’ll kill you! _

_ Leia, we need to focus on your mother- _

What was that deep, rumbling sound? A voice? Vader?

_ Shut up! You evil, murdering son of a - _

Breha coughed, and the fire in her throat grew ten-fold. It was agony, like pure liquid pain was coating the inside of her windpipe. It made her cough even more, and tears sprang to her eyes as the pain became worse.

“Breha!”

“Mama!”

She felt hands on her, gently propping her up and touching her face. She heard anxious murmurs and cracked open her eyes to see the two blurry figures of her husband and daughter above her.

“Bail, Leia,” she tried to say, but it brought the coughing back full-force. Her voice was weak and raspy, and she was immediately shushed by her family.

“Don’t speak, love,” Bail said, voice tight with worry and anger. “He strangled you. Just keep breathing.”

“He tried to kill you,” Leia seethed. Her face was twisted in absolute rage.

“She should not have spoken of things she does not understand.” Vader’s loud, rough voice came from the left and Breha flinched. “I would advise you, Queen Organa, not to mention Senator Amidala to me again. I will not allow the Princess to sway my hand so easily a second time.”

Leia began to speak, but Bail interrupted. “The Queen needs medical attention,” he said sharply.

“Our  _ discussion _ is not finished, Organa,” Vader growled. “The Queen is well enough to remain.”

“I am going to call for medical attention,” Bail said, voice quiet and cold. Breha had rarely heard her husband use that tone, but the few times he employed it, he had gotten what he wanted.

This time was no different. After a tense few beats of silence, Vader acquiesced. “Very well,” he grumbled. “Call. But you and the Princess will remain here and we will continue our  _ talks _ .”

Leia stood up from where she and Bail knelt holding Breha. “Absolutely not!” she said furiously. “I’m going with my mother, you -”

“Leia.” Breha forced the word out despite the rush of pain it brought. Bail shushed her, but she ignored him. Leia looked back at her, and she continued. “Stay with your father, Leia. I’ll be alright.”

She took a rasping breath and turned her head, the slight movement causing her vision to waver. She waited for it to clear and said, “Vader.”

His mask tilted down to look at her.

“We are not finished.”

Vader didn’t answer. Bail made the call for aid, and no one spoke again until the medics, accompanied by several guards, arrived with a hover-gurney to take Breha to the palace medical wing.

As they left the room and began quickly down the hall, medics already beginning to examine her, Breha sent a prayer to every Alderaanian god, goddess, spirit and saint that she had ever heard of, and a prayer to the Force itself.

_ Please, keep them safe. Keep Bail and Leia safe. _

**Author's Note:**

> This fic and others (including the three-sentence prompt fics that this fic was spawned from) can be found on my tumblr: vintage-smokestack.tumblr.com


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